


please don’t change a single little thing for me

by rosie_should_be_going_to_right_now



Series: under my skin [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, F/F, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosie_should_be_going_to_right_now/pseuds/rosie_should_be_going_to_right_now
Summary: Gwen loves both  Morgana and Arthur. It’s just too bad that she has crush on the wrong one.
Relationships: Gwen & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin)
Series: under my skin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1195459
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. The beginning

It’s a scorching hot day in mid July when Gwen comes with her father to Camelot Manor for the first time. She stares, wide-eyed, as intimidatingly large black gates open at their arrival.

“Daddy is it magic?” she asks, utterly wonderstruck. His mouth twitches slightly.

“Perhaps it is,” he replies, very solemnly. “I think I saw a pixie by the orchard one day.” He pauses then says,” Very rude, pixies are. It stuck its tongue out at me.” Gwen giggles so much at the thought of an impolite pixie that she doesn’t notice the security camera pointed directly at the two of them.

They step through the gates, which close behind them immediately. Gwen takes one of her father’s big, calloused hands, and he gently swings her arm back and forth as they walk up a long gravel driveway, lined with trees.

As they approach the manor (which reminds Gwen of a princess’s castle in a fairytale), he says to her, “I know you’re always on your best behaviour, but I need you to be especially good today. Uther is doing me a big favour by allowing me to bring you, so please don’t go exploring without his permission.”

“Of course I’ll be good, Daddy. I’m not _four_ you know.”

He smiles at her; his special smile, the one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. The one only Gwen and Elyan ever see. He squeezes her hand.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

They’ve reached the stone steps leading to the front door of the manor by now. The door opens before they even begin to mount the steps. Gwen wonders if it’s magic again. A stern looking man with greying hair steps out. He descends, smiling politely at Gwen’s father. The smile doesn’t alleviate his sternness. “Morning, Tom,” the man says, somehow managing to make Gwen’s father’s name sound like an official title.

“Good morning, Uther.”

Gwen smiles shyly at Uther, who completely ignores her. She notices two children emerging from the doorway behind him. They’re both around Gwen’s age. A chubby cheeked boy with blond hair, and a scrawny, pale girl with dark hair. They stand at the top of the steps, straight-backed like two soldiers awaiting orders. Uther doesn’t spend any time on small talk.

“Right Tom, the rose bushes need to be pruned,” he announces briskly. Gwen thinks he’s rather rude.

“Of course, Uther. And my daughter-“

“Ah yes...... your daughter,” Uther cuts him off, looking rather uncomfortable. He beckons down the two children.

“Be good to your guest,” he orders them. He then turns on his heel, and goes back indoors, shutting the door behind him. Gwen turns to her father, aghast at Uther’s behaviour. He seems amused at her expression.

“Have a good day. Don’t get into mischief. I’ll be all finished at five.”

He drops a kiss on her forehead. Before she knows it, Gwen is left alone with the two children who still look slightly stiff and soldier-like. The boy sticks out his hand, like a man in a suit, on the telly would.

“My name is Arthur Pendragon, and I’m six and a half,” he says, very seriously, with a straight face. Gwen takes his hand and shakes it, trying to suppress a building giggle.

“I’m Guinevere Smith,” she says, trying to match his formal tone. ”But everyone calls me Gwen. I’m six too.”

The girl sighs, drawing Gwen’s attention. “Stop pretending to be a grown-up, Arthur!” she cries dramatically, in an accent Gwen’s never heard before. Arthur pouts sulkily, and Gwen’s badly contained giggle bursts out of her. The girl smiles brightly at her.

“I’m Morgana. I’m five and three-quarters, and my brother is _very_ silly.”

Arthur directs a murderous glare at her, and Morgana answers by sticking her tongue out at him. Gwen decides she likes Arthur and Morgana. They don’t look like soldiers at all anymore. She notices again how very different they look. She wouldn’t have guessed that they’re siblings hadn’t they said so. They don’t even have the same coloured eyes.

“You don’t look like brother and sister,” she says, unable to contain her curiosity. She knows her father wouldn’t approve of her making such an observation out loud, though she’s unsure why.

“It’s because I’m a bastard,” Morgana announces breezily. Gwen hasn’t a clue what that means but she doesn’t think it’s a very good thing. She nods sagely nonetheless.

”Morgana! You aren’t meant to say that to people,” Arthur whispers angrily, looking stricken.

”You don’t even know what bastard means, Arthur.”

”Well neither do you!”

Her father is right, Gwen decides. Making observations about people’s looks isn’t a good idea at all. She shifts her feet uncomfortably, staring at the pattern she’s creating in the gravel, in an effort not to hear their argument.

”Do you want to play hide-and-seek?”she asks, hoping to distract them. Morgana’s eyes widen in delight. She stares at Gwen as if she’s a gift from the heavens. Arthur nods enthusiastically, almost vibrating in excitement. Their bickering is forgotten in mere seconds. Another giggle escapes from Gwen, because she’s never seen two people so excited to play hide-and-seek in her life. Before she knows it, all three of them are laughing uncontrollably over nothing at all.

They play hide-and-seek for over an hour, until Arthur loses one too many times and decides that hide-and-seek is boring. They decide to take a break, and stay in the shade awhile. Gwen sits with Morgana and Arthur under a large horse chestnut tree, protected from the unforgiving glare of the sun by its branches. Morgana and Arthur ask her intrusive questions, and Gwen asks her own ones right back until they know each other’s (utterly different) lives inside out.

Morgana and Arthur learn that Gwen’s father doesn’t have a car. They learn that she stays at her neighbours’ house almost every day during the summer holidays, when her father is at work. That she hates it there, because it smells like cigarette smoke, her neighbours argue, and there’s nothing to do except watch telly all day. They learn that she came with her father to work today, because the neighbours are getting something called “a divorce”; meaning they’re throwing plates at each other, and screaming bad words so loudly that it sounds like they’re in Gwen’s house.

In turn Gwen learns that the big black gate at the end of the driveway is there to keep scary men with big flashing cameras out of Camelot Manor. She learns that Uther is something called a “business mogul” and a minor royal (the latter fact causes Gwen to gasp out loud). She learns that Arthur and Morgana have different mothers and that they’re both dead, like her own. That Morgana has a strange accent because she stays with her mother’s family in Wicklow quite often (Gwen doesn’t know where Wicklow is. She doesn’t ask).

All three of them come to the realisation that they’re starving and uncomfortably thirsty much later, when the sun is well past its highest point. They trek off to the kitchen where a kind woman named Milena, with an accent that reminds Gwen of a villain in a spy movie prepares sandwiches and lemonade for them.

When Gwen inquires about Milena after lunch she hears that she’s the cook, she’s from Serbia, “And she gives us hugs sometimes”.

Gwen doesn’t understand fully why that last fact, provided by Arthur, makes her chest hurt a little bit. She wonders if Uther ever gives his children hugs. She finds it difficult to picture Uther tucking Morgana and Arthur into bed, or reading them a bedtime story. Her eyes go a little blurry, so she distracts herself by teaching Morgana how to make a daisy chain. Morgana weaves a garland into Gwen’s curls to show her gratitude.

Gwen is almost (almost) disappointed when five o’clock arrives, along with her father. It’s been the very best day of her summer holidays.

”I’ll see Morgana and Arthur again, won’t I Daddy?” she asks as they walk home. He flashes his extra special smile at her, his brown eyes practically twinkling.

”I think so sweetheart,” he says.“I don’t think you should be staying at the Crawford’s anymore. You never liked it there anyway. I’ll ask Uther if I can bring you to work regularly from now on. Would you like that?”

Gwen just beams silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed this.   
> Constructive criticism is always welcome!  
> Title is from Loving Is Easy by Rex Orange Country


	2. Growing Pains

_Ten years later_

It’s an icy Friday at the the end of February. Gwen is halfway through her essay on the rise of fascism in 1920s Italy when she hears a sharp knock on her door.

”You can come in,” she calls, already relatively sure she knows who it is. Morgana occasionally comes over to “study” (procrastinate and gossip) on Friday evenings.

”I’m not going to distract you,” says Morgana, rushing in, thankfully shutting the door behind her. The countless lectures Gwen has given her on the importance of preventing cold drafts must be sinking in at long last. She drops her school bag, and what Gwen guesses is an overnight bag to the floor with a world weary sigh. She sinks onto Gwen’s bed as if it’s her own; lying back with her feet on the floor. 

Gwen decides her paragraph on Mussolini’s propaganda techniques is going to have to wait. She flips her history book and copy closed with a finger, and turns in her desk chair in order to give Morgana her full attention.

“I said I’m _not_ going to distract you,” Morgana protests, reaching across the minuscule gap between the bed and the desk in a weak effort to push Gwen back to work.

”Consider me irreversibly distracted,” she says as she swats Morgana’s hand away, unable to suppress a smile.

She notes that Morgana is still in her school uniform despite the fact that it’s almost eight in the evening. She finds it equally enviable and adorable that Morgana manages to look like she’s just after stepping off a runway while wearing a plain white blouse and an ugly, woollen tartan skirt that she’s been wearing for over twelve hours. There isn’t a single hair astray from Morgana’s intricately woven braid, and somehow she doesn’t seem to have any pimples or blackheads. Gwen is rendered painfully aware of her own present outbreak of premenstrual acne and her messy bun which has been becoming steadily messier all day.

Morgana is virtually physically flawless which is why Gwen finds it hard to look directly at her sometimes. She glances at Morgana now, spreadeagled dramatically on the bed, apparently resigned to the fact that Gwen has given up on homework, and her chest aches a bit. In order to distract herself from her train of thought Gwen pokes Morgana’s bags with her foot. As expected one is full of books and the other contains clothes. She kicks Morgana in the shin lightly.

“I don’t remember saying you could stay over,” she says haughtily, raising an eyebrow. She knows Morgana won’t take offence at her tone.

”I’m _ever_ so sorry Miss Smith,” Morgana replies, sarcastic civility dripping from every word.

”Is there a chance you could deign to host me as your humble guest? I’d be ever so grateful. I’d owe you a debt of gratitude forevermore.”

She levels a beseeching gaze not unlike a puppy’s at Gwen, who makes a concerted effort not to laugh.

”I’ll consider it,” she says, still using her haughty tone. Morgana grins at her, apparently satisfied.

”Seriously though Morgana, is there a reason why you’re staying over?”

Morgana makes a face and a noncommittal noise.

”Another argument?”

That gets Morgana to sit up on the bed with a sigh.

”How do you _always_ know when something’s wrong?” she asks, voice full of both admiration and irritation.Gwen rolls her eyes, smiling slightly.

“It’s impossible not to notice when something is wrong with you! Subtlety isn’t exactly your forte.”

Morgana glares at her, but there’s no heat in it.

“I could be subtle if I wanted to,” she asserts.

Gwen prods her hard in the thigh with her big toe, punctuating every poke with a word.

”Just. _Tell._ Me. What’s. Wrong!”

Morgana yelps in surprise, then snorts with laughter in the undignified way few people ever get the privilege to see. Gwen waits for her to answer, but she knows Morgana won’t. Not right away. She may not be very subtle, but she’s adept at avoiding unwanted conversations.

As predicted, Morgana’s eyes light up with an evil spark. Gwen watches as her face moulds into a smirking flirtatious mask. She places a chilled hand on Gwen’s bare outstretched, ankle, just below the cuff of her fluffy pyjama pants, making her shiver.

”Have I ever told you Gwen, that I have.... kind of a _thing_ for feet?”she says in a voice so husky it’s comical.

“I just love it when you... poke me like that.”

Perhaps she’s attempting a low, seductive voice. She sounds more like she’s got a severe case of bronchitis. Gwen feels a familiar giggle rising up inside her, but she suppresses it in favour of playing along.She wonders how far Morgana will take this joke, considering she finds feet completely revolting. Morgana’s index finger gently traces a circle on Gwen’s ankle. Her eyes meet Gwen’s, and there isn’t a trace of amusement in them. The giggle dies in Gwen’s throat. This is a challenge. Whoever breaks first loses.It’s unclear what the prize will be.

“Got any verrucas?”Morgana whispers, her eyes still locked with Gwen’s.

”Because I’m really into that.”

A shriek of laughter bursts out of Gwen at the exact moment that Morgana breaks character. The momentary spell is broken. She wrenches her foot from Morgana’s grasp, ignoring her faint sense of bizarre disappointment that their strange battle of wills ended so quickly. Waves of laughter engulf them both.

”You... bastard,” Gwen manages to wheeze as she begins to calm down. Morgana winks at her.

”That _is_ what they call me.” 

That sets them both off again. It’s only ten minutes later, when Gwen has fully calmed down that she realises that Morgana’s plan to distract her has worked perfectly.

“All right,”she says firmly, fixing Morgana with what Elyan always says is her ‘primary school teacher stare’.

”Tell me what’s wrong.”

Morgana shifts uncomfortably, and takes a deep breath before she begins.

”It’s ridiculous really..... I was FaceTiming Morgause the other day- you know her don’t you?”

Gwen nods in affirmation. She’s only ever met Morgause briefly, but she’s the type of person who creates a memorable impression. Morgana continues.

”She mentioned to me that our Aunt Nuala is an Irish teacher.”

Morgana has a seemingly never ending list of relatives who take turns hosting her whenever she returns home during the school holidays. Gwen nods as Morgana speaks, nonplussed as to where this is going. 

“I’ve been telling Morgause recently that I wish I’d been allowed to spend more of the school year back home when I was younger. I’ve never learnt Irish properly. I’ve ended up getting a very... British education. I’ve only kept my accent through sheer force of will.”

She pauses, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth.

”Apparently Nuala has offered to teach me Irish. Properly. She’ll send me notes, and she’ll give me lessons over FaceTime, and she’ll teach me when I go over next summer! I might be going to an Irish college in the Gaeltacht as well for a few weeks so I can be ‘fully immersed’.”

Morgana’s wanted this for years. Gwen feels as though congratulations are in order, but she stays silent for the moment. There must be a catch.

”It’s stupid. Really. I told Arthur about it all straight afterwards and he was over the moon for me. Of course. And then... for some god forsaken reason... I told Uther. He laughed. Thought it was hilarious that I was off to learn a ‘dead primitive language’. I had a big row with him of course, but I’m sure he thinks it’s all better now. He made a half-arsed apology and sent a giant teddy to my room. The usual.”

Gwen is shocked to see that Morgana’s eyes are filling with tears. She slips out of her desk chair, and sits next to Morgana on the bed, putting her arm around her. Morgana leans into her.

”I know I’m being ridiculous. I know I’m overreacting.”

”You’re not.”

”It’s not even what he said that upset me. It’s bigger than that.”

Gwen rubs Morgana’s arm comfortingly, waiting for her to sort her thoughts out.

”I’m not the daughter he wants me to be,”she says at last, her voice thick with tears.

”I shouldn’t care what he thinks because it’s not as if he’s a great father, or even a good person. I shouldn’t care, but I do. I know he loves me but I don’t think I’ll ever make him truly proud. Because I’m not.. h-her. I want to be _her._ The daughter he th-thinks I am.”

She draws a big rattling breath. 

“The older I get the more I realise that I’m just playing a part for him. Someday he’s going to realise it’s all a big show.”

Gwen doesn’t know what to say to that. She thinks of her own dad. Her lovely, lovely dad who knows her better than she knows herself. Who tells her he loves every day because ‘love is one of few, infinite resources Guinevere’ She can’t imagine pretending to be the daughter he wants her to be. She knows she isn’t perfect, but she’s fairly sure she’ll always be the daughter her father wants.

Morgana’s tears aren’t flowing as freely anymore. Her breaths aren’t as laboured. This is the moment for a soothing platitude, but Gwen can’t think of a suitable one for the life of her. She’s always been better at physical affection than verbal affection, but even that is failing her.

If it was Elyan crying right now, or Arthur, Gwen would drop loving kisses on his forehead without qualm. She won’t kiss Morgana on the forehead. She can’t. Morgana has soft skin. Her childhood scrawniness still remains, allowing her to fit into Gwen’s body like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. She smells heavenly, like mint conditioner and expensive perfume. Gwen thinks Morgana may just be her favourite person on earth.

”You know what?”

“What?”

They're both whispering as if they’re trading state secrets.

”You’re far better than anyone Uther could want you to be.”

”That’s the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

The two of them stay there intwined, for what feels like a lifetime. Gwen imagines the sum of all her love for Morgana diffusing into the room around them, keeping them both warm, safe, cocooned in this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why but I have a longstanding head canon that Morgana wants to learn Irish.  
> I wrote of this while in a pancake induced haze, so please let me know if there are any typos.  
> Constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
